Riot! (What-Happened-Instead)
by romirola
Summary: A rewrite/extension of S14E05. When Adam arrives at the Nevada State Prison for a routine inspection, he is taken hostage by inmates ready to change the prison's conditions by any means necessary, even murder. While trapped, Adam meets Griff King, a young convict who enlightens Adam about the corruption found at the prison as Joe and Candy work to end the riot and save Adam.
1. Caging Animals

**Author's Note: Hello, fellow Bonanza fans! Here is a WHI (What-Happened-Instead) for the episode ****Riot!****. For the record, I ignore Adam's departure, but I keep in Candy's arrival, so both characters will be featured in this story. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Hurry it up!" Officer Hizer, a Nevada State Prison guard, ordered as he banged his baton on the nearby wall. At each stroke of his baton, crumbling pieces of rotting concrete chips cascaded to the floor.

With strength he did not know he possessed, Griff King threw open the previously-padlocked door to reveal a pitch black room. Quelling his recently-developed fear of small, confined spaces, the nineteen year old entered the vertically-oriented coffin known as the Hellbox. As the young convict's breathing rate increased, he began to fumble around in the dark until a clammy hand weakly grabbed his ankle.

"Donavan?" the teenager gently addressed as he crouched down to the sick man lying on the ground. "C'mon, Donavan," Griff murmured softly, wrapping his long arms around Donavan's waist to carry him out of the Hellbox.

Unable to answer Griff, Donavan limply allowed himself to be transported to Cell Block Two's general population area. Once Griff made his way out of the Hellbox and into the light, an older convict helped to ease Griff's burden by supporting Donavan's legs.

"Over here, Cooper" Hizer instructed the older criminal, but such a command was unnecessary. The older convict was very knowledgeable in post-Hellbox affairs. Along with Griff, Cooper lowered Donavan to the ground and settled him as best they could on the thin blanket Hizer designated. Even being rescued from the Hellbox was not enough to stop the raging fever burning through Donavan's frail body. Griff dropped to his knees and placed his hand on Donavan's neck to feel for a pulse. A thready and dull vibration alerted Griff that Donavan was, for the moment, alive. As Griff normally cared for the prisoners' sicknesses and injuries, Griff was all too familiar with Donavan's steadily-deteriorating condition. He knew that without immediate help, Donavan would soon die.

"You damn near killed him," Griff angrily reported under his breath. Allowing his rage to get the best of him, Griff forced up his six foot, two inch frame to attack the indifferent guard. Seeing his young friend about to ruin everything, Cooper quickly restrained Griff.

"What did you say?" the guard demanded. He threateningly pointed his baton in Griff's face.

Cooper replied before Griff could answer. "I said he's dying."

Ignoring Griff, the guard closed the distance between himself and Cooper with three wide steps. "You said I killed him," Hizer corrected.

Unwilling to confirm or to deny Hizer's claim, Cooper shrugged while uttering, "So I did."

"You never learn, do ya?" Hizer remarked. "You must like it in that Hellbox. You just earned five days in there." Hizer made eye contact with Griff. Sensing the younger man's guilt, Hizer continued, "Both of you!"

"The kid didn't say nothing!" Cooper protested.

Before Hizer's punishment could be carried out, another guard entered the cramped room. Strolling past Donavan without a glance, the lankier guard warned, "Officer Hizer, the governor's inspection representative is here." Griff and Cooper shared a tense look with each other as they squared their shoulders. "He's in the warden's office right now."

Hizer pursed his lips, and Griff could not restrain a small smirk. "Into the kitchen, you two," Hizer ordered, defeated for the moment. Without another word, the two guards exited the enclosed space.

Satisfied that he could do no more to help Donavan's condition, Griff followed Cooper into the hall that led to the prison's kitchen. The chains that bound both men's ankles clicked and clanged when jostled, singing an eerie tune. Before entering the kitchen, Cooper halted Griff and harshly whispered, "That mouth of yours is gonna wreck everything!"

Unable to disagree and too stubborn to apologize, Griff did not respond. He reached into the sack of potatoes that were surprisingly fresh. "Figures," he scoffed. Griff began to peel the vegetable with the blunt tool convicts were allowed to use in the prison. His racing mind refused to cease imagining Cooper's plan coming to fruition. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Griff mentally ran through his assigned role in the impending plan of action.

* * *

"Mhmm, mhmm," the finely-dressed Nevada State Prison Warden nodded, shuffling through the papers on his desk. He eyed the serious man, who was just as well-dressed, sitting opposite him. "And this is your first visit to a state prison?" the warden worriedly reiterated for the third time.

Adam Cartwright kept an unfluctuating tone. "Well, as an inspector, yes," he repeated, his dark brown orbs sensing fear the warden's downcast eyes.

The warden clicked his tongue disapprovingly in response. "You know nothing of prison affairs, and yet you're here as the investigating committee's representative?"

Adam bristled at the warden's unspoken accusation of inadequacy. "At the governor's request," Adam reminded him.

"Well," the warden said with a feigned smile. "We have had our problems here, sure. I admit that. But, um," he hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "Mr. Cartwright, you've got to understand that there are no quick and easy answers here. These men are sent here for punishment. They're thieves, crooks, murderers," he explained in disgust. Running a hand through his white hair, the warden continued. "Harsh, cruel men. And when you're dealing with men like that, you need to take harsh measures."

Adam slightly shifted in his seat, unfazed by the warden's pre-presented argument. Such a simple description of prison was not nearly enough to sway Adam's judgment. "I want you to keep that in mind," the warden concluded.

"Noted," Adam breathed, taking in the quality of the warden's office.

Hizer burst through the door and waited a moment before making his presence known. "My name is Officer Hizer, your escort for the day." Inwardly, Adam grinned at the stilted use off the word 'escort.' To the rancher, the word was much too jubilant to describe a prison tour. "When you're ready, sir..."

"Of course," Adam agreed, rising from his seat. He was surprised to find he was the only man moving. "Warden, you aren't coming?"

"No!" the warden yelped. Suddenly collecting himself, he let a laugh escape his curled lips. "No, no. Sorry, but I just can't take the time away from this." He motioned to the stacks of paper on his desk. "Paperwork- it never stops, you know."

"Indeed, I do," Adam coolly commented. "Shall we?" he asked, addressing Hizer.

"You're not going to like what you see," Hizer advised Adam. "Too many prisoners, not enough room, and no money to do anything about it." He pushed open the thick door.

Already tired of being fed a script, Adam stated, "Perhaps something can be done about that." Hizer locked the door behind him and began leading Adam to Cell Block Two, the worst-looking area of the prison. Once out of the warden's earshot, Adam spoke to Hizer. "I've got to report any suggestions on how to improve the prison. Do you have any?"

Hizer had not been prepared for such a direct question. "Yeah," he confirmed. "I've two for you. More guards and better pay." Before Adam could inquire about Hizer's answer, the men arrived at the locked door leading to Cell Block Two's general population area. "Now listen, you can see anybody, talk to anybody you want, speak with any of the prisoners. But there's two rules. You stay close to me at all times and you don't get within arm's length of any prisoner." Hizer jammed his rusty key into the metal lock.

Adam nodded, accepting the conditions. "Sounds more like caging animals than men."

Hizer slowly turned his head to face Adam while opening the door. "Close to it."

Upon walking in to the cell block, Adam was greeted with a sight he could not have imagined. Dozens of men clad in chains were lined up across the cold floor. Clothed in nothing more than ripped rags, the men all stared at Adam. The cell was much too small to properly house half the men there. Dismayed by the prison's reality, Adam said nothing but made mental notes to ask about the men's space, clothes, and the lack of cleanliness that was clearly evident.

"This big cellar here is like a lion pen," Hizer explained. "Except these lions make their own claws." Digging through his pocket, Hizer pulled out a crudely-made shank and handed it to Adam. "Here. I saved this for you. Found it this mornin'. But for every one we find, there's a dozen or two we don't."

Adam carefully inspected the shank. By gingerly running his finger around the blade, Adam could tell how sharp and deadly the weapon was. Raising an eyebrow, Adam handed the shank back to Hizer to continue on his tour.

* * *

Back in the prison kitchen, Cooper drew a wooden ladle through a thick, bubbling stew. Off to his right, Griff was still peeling potatoes. Approaching footsteps alerted the two convicts that the kitchen would be the next stop in Adam's visit. When Cooper saw Griff struggling with peeling, a job that Griff has done so many times he would be able to do it while asleep, Cooper scooped out a spoonful of stew and waved it in Griff's general direction with a hopeful smile. Reassured, Griff put down the potatoes for a moment and picked up a tray full of bread, handing it to another inmate so he could pass the bread out later.

"I must insist that I see the kitchen," Adam said as he was ushered into the bustling kitchen. "I'd like to see what the men get to eat." Griff did not stop his mechanical peeling motion, but Adam's request did catch the teenager's ear. Adam referred to the inmates as 'men,' rather than the other creative names the guards usually used.

Hizer quickly waved his baton in a lazy effort to introduce Adam to the kitchen.

"Ah," Adam remarked, picking up a potato from Griff's bowl. Griff kept his head down, too afraid that even the slightest eye contact with Adam would spoil Cooper's later plans. "Nice, fresh vegetables." Making his way over to Cooper, Adam looked in the large pot. Griff quickly grabbed a nearby spoon. Wiping off the utensil on his tan shirt that was much too big for his slender body, he silently offered it to Adam without a word. "Thank you," Adam smiled. He accepted the spoon and stirred the stew. "Carrots, potatoes, meat," he observed. "Smells pretty good."

Griff could no longer hold his tongue. "Inspection Stew," he clarified. "That's my name for it."

To prevent Adam from engaging Griff in conversation, Cooper shoved a plate in Adam's hand. "Like to try some?"

"Sure," Adam agreed after a pause. "I'll have a taste." He brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth.

"M'name's Cooper, Mr. Cartwright. You don't know me," Cooper introduced in a rush when Adam's mouth of full of stew. "But I know you because I seen you in Virginia City a couple times."

"You're a very good cook," Adam complemented after swallowing the stew.

"Had a lotta practice," Cooper confirmed. "Six years I been here, and twenty-nine to go." Griff's methodical peeling skipped a beat at the thought of having to endure twenty-nine more years of prison living. "And you'll sure recognize a few faces here- Johnny Plank being one of them."

Adam kept an even face at the mention of Johnny Plank. He remembered serving on the jury for Plank. The normal trial was not memorable, but the absolute lack of remorse from Plank would always stay in Adam's memory. With a curt nod, Adam circled the closed cupboards, nearing Griff again. Knowing that this was his chance, Griff fluidly reached behind Adam and pulled a cupboard door open, allowing moldy, rotting carrots to fall at Adam's feet. Curious, Adam picked up one of the carrots, half-expecting the vegetable to mush into liquid at his mild touch. If it were not for the label on the bag, Adam would not have been able to distinguish the vegetable's identity because the orange pigment had given way to a sickening grey color. Disgusted, Adam dropped the carrot as he noticed another bag full of wheat. Taking a peek inside, Adam poured the contents into an unused bowl, revealing bugs crawling around in the wheat. "Rotten carrots, bugs in the flour…"

"That's, uh, probably waste," Hizer interjected. "Woulda been burned, but this inspection got in the way."

Adam ignored Hizer's explanation. "Who buys the food here?" he demanded.

"You'll have to ask Warden," Hizer shrugged.

"Do that," Adam said, turning back to Griff, suddenly understanding his earlier comment.

Hizer intervened before Adam reached Griff. "We need to get this food outta here and get the prisoners fed." Smacking his hands clean, Adam silently walked out of the kitchen.

"Ya did good, kid," Cooper approvingly noted, readying the stew to be served. "There's hope for you." Griff plucked a few slices of bread off of the tray and concealed them in his fist.

"Hizer!" Cooper called. "Is it alright to feed them now?"

Hizer was unamused. "What's the matter? You deaf or something? I already told you: feed them now!" Unbeknownst to Hizer, Griff was stuffing the locks of the open doors with bread so the doors would not be able to be fully shut. He patted Cooper on the shoulder to signal he finished his assignment.

"Okay, just asking," Cooper apologized, and followed Griff to retrieve silverware so the two could serve the meal. Placing the trays on a rickety cart, Griff rolled the cart into the main cell under a guard's watchful eye. Griff saw Adam walk up and down each and every bed area, obviously taking his inspector title very seriously. Paying no attention to Adam, Griff bent down to start serving his fellow inmates. While moving, Griff's thin shirt slipped off of his shoulder, revealing a mass of healed scars that tightly pulled across Griff's skin and open wounds that were red and swollen.

"Your shoulder," Adam remarked, his brow furrowing his worry. Griff froze, allowing Adam to get a clear look. "Is that from-"

"No," Hizer cut off, motioning for Griff to move along. "Those stripes ain't our work. He had those when he got here."

When Hizer turned around to reprimand another convict for attempting to sneak away with more food, Griff coiled his head around to make eye contact with Adam. Griff quietly shook his head and darted his piercing blue eyes in Hizer's direction. Adam nodded to inform Griff that the unfortunate message had been received.

Continuing his journey, Adam came across the small, confined room. "Officer." He pointed to the door. "What is this?"

"Just another cell," Hizer brushed off nonchalantly.

"It's the Hellbox!" Cooper shouted from across the room. "You act up and that's where they bury you."

Adam gave Hizer a menacing look. The eldest Cartwright son did not appreciated being lied to at all.

"He's just a loud mouth. We get a lot of them in here," Hizer shrugged, disregarding Cooper. "The door's open. Take a look if you want."

Adam stuck his head through the doorway, resting a hand on the thick door. Utter blackness met Adam. Secretly shuddering at the thought from being locked in the Hellbox for any extended period of time, Adam exited the Hellbox. He almost tripped on a leg that was sticking out. "What's your name?" Adam asked the owner of the leg.

A very old man who could not stop shaking his head flinched at Adam's voice. "Name… Yeah." Upset at the old man's inability to comprehend his simple question, Adam softened his gaze.

"Charlie," Hizer said. "His name's Charlie. They say the prison was built around him. This is his home now. He don't want to leave." Adam resisted the urge to sarcastically roll his eyes at the guard's claim.

"Yeah, Charlie! Ch-Ch-Charlie," he repeated, blankly staring off into space, unaware of Adam's presence.

A deafening squeak announcing the arrival of a chain gang being marched into the cell. "Keep moving, keep moving," another guard ordered as the men were lined up across the cell. Adam watched the scene unfold with gross fascination.

"Not enough guards," Hizer commented. "That's why we have to move the work gangs out one at a time."

"What kind of work is it they do?" Adam asked.

"Hard labor!" yelled one of the inmates. "Heavy work that we weren't sentenced to!"

The other guard easily silenced the convict that spoke out by stepping near him. "Loudmouths." Hizer shook his head. "Every last one of 'em."

Distracted by Donavan's thrashings to demand an answer, Adam bent down to feel the older man's forehead. "This man is burning up," he stated.

No guard made a move to help Donavan. "The doc will be here tomorrow," Hizer told Adam.

Adam's head snapped up to look directly at Hizer. "He needs attention now."

The guard still showed no sympathy, only angering Adam more. "This is a prison. The doctor comes out here twice a week. From what they tell me, that's all they can afford."

"I see," Adam acknowledged. "Seems like I'll be asking the warden about a lot of things later today."

"Chains out! On the double!" The work gang unthreaded their chains for a brief moment of freedom before they would be individually chained. At least, the cons would have usually been chained individually.

"NOW!" Cooper screamed.

Half of the unchained work gang attacked the guards and Adam while the other half helped free the rest of Cell Block 2's population. Instead of trying to help Adam, Hizer ran for the kitchen and tried to lock the door behind him. Shocked to find that bread in the lock stopped him from doing so, Hizer almost expected to be taken down by a couple of the kitchen workers.

Utterly outnumbered, Adam still fought back. "Get Cartwright! Get Cartwright!" many of the men yelled with unbridled passion. Adam's fist connected with two of the mean, but with four coming at him, Adam knew this was a losing battle. Forced into a corner, Adam had little choice but to keep fighting for as long as he could.

Johnny Plank, snatched up one of the discarded chains and made his way over to Adam in the chaos. "Get off him!" Plank ordered, throwing man after man off of Adam. "He's mine! Cartwright's mine!" Forcing Adam up, Plank started to wrap the chain around Adam's neck. Adam struggled against the lunatic's hold, but as he felt the chain tighten and started losing oxygen, Adam's reserve rapidly weakened and he slid to the ground.

* * *

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Please let me know in a review! Any and all feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading, and see you next chapter! **


	2. No Lies

**Thank you for reading/reviewing/alerting! It's such a joy to receive such emails. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

At that moment, Griff happened to catch sight of Plank strangling Adam. "Plank!" he screamed, and ran over to the fight. "Coop was clear!" he yelled, dragging Plank off of Adam. "No killing. That ain't why we planned this!"

Willing himself to stay conscious, Adam forced himself to focus on Griff as he blinked away the black spots that danced in front of his eyes. In the short time that took, Griff had already vanished from Adam's sight. As the initial pandemonium of the riot calmed down, Cooper stepped forward. "You keep your hands offa him, ya hear?!" Cooper shouted at Plank.

Plank wiped at his bloody lip. "He's the one that put me in here!"

"Don't you try to settle an old grudge through him," Cooper threatened. Done with Plank, Cooper began ordering the other convicts to take care of the guards. "Put them two in the Hellbox!"

"And then?" Plank challenged.

"Then…" Cooper paused, relishing the moment. He was finally being rewarded for months of painstaking planning. "We use Cartwright to get what we want."

Still seething, Plank arose from the floor. "And what if he ain't enough?" he pressed.

Cooper glanced at Adam, silently apologizing for what he was about to say. "Then he's yours."

Plank could not contain his growing smile. With fascination, the lunatic glared devilishly at Adam. Too rational to respond, Adam focused on Cooper, who was already leading the convicts through the next part of the riot. This riot had remarkably started without bloodshed. Adam could only hope that the riot would end without blood spilling, as well.

"Now, everybody just settle down," Cooper commanded with charisma, standing on a rickety wooden chair so he could address everyone. "We got business to do here. We ain't just a bunch of no-good cons that kill when we get the chance. We ain't," he insistently repeated for Adam's benefit. "We got problems, and this was the only way to solve any of them. And we're gonna do it real proper-like."

"Proper-like," Plank spat. "Just tell 'em we want horses, guns and a head start!"

"That's stupid, Plank," said Cooper. "We're gonna make things in here better. Better for me, you, all of you." Cooper waved his arm around to refer to the rest of the cons. "And for all the men who will pass through this place. Maybe they'll survive 'till the end of their sentence. That's what this is all about."

Plank scoffed. "Who cares?"

"I do," Cooper maintained. "Now if all you're gonna do is stir up trouble, get out of here and let us work."

Adam watched silently as Plank exited the main cell. He was surprised that Cooper stopped Plank's outburst so easily. "Roscoe, Jenkins!" Cooper yelled, obviously moving on from Plank. "Grab that table and some chairs from the kitchen and bring them in here." Before Adam was able to crane his neck to see who Roscoe and Jenkins were, a table and two chairs appeared before him. "Sit down, Mr. Cartwright."

Boldly tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, Adam did as Cooper said. "Alright."

Cooper wasted no time before bringing Adam up to speed about the prison's conditions. "We've had four inspections in the last six years and none of them changed nothing here! So we're gonna tell you what we want." Cooper sat down in front of Adam on the table. Both of the inmate's knees were clearly visible through large gaping holes in his pants.

"I am the inspection committee's representative," Adam mused, "but the governor makes all the final decisions. I surely can't speak for him."

"You can recommend our demands by signing them," Cooper suggested. "That is, if you think they're fair."

Even though had he a decent idea of some of the demands Cooper was about to disclose, Adam challenged, "Then enlighten me."

"Now we're talking," Cooper nodded. "Just so you know, I planned all this. I was the one who got me an' the rest of them out of the chains and stocks. Cartwright?"

Adam noticed that Cooper had dropped the "Mr." Unsure if Cooper was did this as an assertion of domination or a gesture of friendliness, Adam raised his chin to look Cooper in the eyes.

Continuing, Cooper reported, "We all are carrying a lot of years on our backs. Chains, hard labor, slop for food. Every living thing outside these walls is being treated better than we are. Most of us can't even hope to live long enough to serve our sentences an' walk out of here free."

"What do you expect of me?" Adam pushed.

"Just no lies." Cooper leaned in, his face barely a foot away from Adam's. "We play it straight on both sides." Just when Adam started to ever so slightly relax with the promise of a rational discussion, Cooper added, "Or a lot of folks might just get killed. You being one of them."

As he let out what was intended to be a calming breath, Adam did not offer an answer to Cooper's carefully-worded threat. Rationality had been replaced by desperation.

* * *

Sitting alone in a saloon, Joe Cartwright focused on the deck of cards spread out before him. "Red queen to black king," he muttered, appropriately moving the cards. "Black jack to red queen." Glancing around, Joe drew another card from his pile. Displeased with the result, Joe took another swig of his beer.

Candy Canaday pushed the signing doors open when he entered the saloon. Removing his hat, Candy pulled out a red neckerchief to wipe down his face. Scratching at his stubble, Candy thought to himself that the first thing he would do upon arriving back at the Ponderosa was shave his face. He sat across from his friend, eyeing Joe's solitaire hand. "Hey, Joe," he greeted.

Joe broke his gaze from the cards in front of him. "Hey, Candy," he acknowledged. "How ya doing?"

"How long been here?" Candy nonchalantly asked, reaching over Joe to place a red ten to on the black jack.

Flipping the card under the red ten to reveal the Ace of Spades, Joe answered, "Not long." He placed the Ace above the rest of the cards. "How was your trip?"

"Long ride," Candy recounted, resting his chin on his open hand. "I had to chase Barton all the way up the high country to get that money!"

"Barton just likes to make a game of everything," Joe laughed, thankful that he had not been the one to complete that task. Joe pulled another card from his pile. "Adam's gonna meet us for supper over at the hotel. That inspection won't take all day. We should be able to leave early tonight if everything works out."

Candy nodded, taking a consecutive column of cards and shifting it over to complete the seven stacks. "Should take me about an hour to get cleaned up."

Joe's mouth twitched at Candy's constant intervention. "This is a game for one man, you know," he informed.

"The way you play, I got time for another beer," Candy grinned. He nimbly twisted around to face the bartender. "Another beer," he ordered. Joe instantly raised his hand to show two fingers. "Make it two," Candy corrected. Outside, a bell incessantly rang, but Joe and Candy ignored the noise.

Although it was the middle of the day and only a few men were in the saloon, every man sprinted out without an explanation. Candy and Joe shared a look, very confused. Pushing past Joe and Candy, the entire saloon cleared.

"Sorry, we're closin' up," the bartender hurriedly informed to the two men. "That's the prison bell," he added for their benefit while he snatched up Joe's half-full mug. "That means there's trouble over there."

In a flash, Joe and Candy jumped up from their seats and sped out of the saloon. The unfinished solitaire game stayed on the table. Once Joe and Candy left, the bartender slammed the door shut and locked them from the inside.

"What do you think the trouble is?" Candy panted as he struggled to keep up with Joe. The youngest Cartwright always had a reputation of speed, but once fueled with worry for his oldest brother, Joe was downright uncatchable.

"I don't know," Joe coughed out, his mouth suddenly dry and dust-filled as he arrived at the prison gates. "But we're gonna find out."

* * *

"And another thing," Cooper listed. "We want real work. Something that ain't gonna break our backs and make us keel over. Farming, building. Anything other than swinging at some good-for-nothing rocks!"

Hiding his agreement with Cooper, Adam interrupted, "Your list is quite long. Perhaps you want to write them down to keep them all straight."

Cooper eagerly shook his head up and down. "That's that famous Cartwright brain o' yours. Always thinking." Nabbing a stack of papers and a quill, Cooper began summoning the man he knew would be the best scribe in the prison. "Griff!" he called. "Griff, get in here!"

Griff hurried into the main room and approached Cooper's table. Adam mentally noted how similar the teenager's unruly black curls were to Joe's. A pang of worry materialized in Adam's heart. Adam prayed that he would be able to escape the prison so he could mock his younger brother's hairstyle again.

"Where ya been, Griff?" Cooper asked, pulling out a chair for Griff to occupy.

"I was with Donavan. He-"

Adam strained to hear what Griff was about to say, but Cooper unceremoniously cut off the young man. "That's another thing we need to change. Six days Donavan was in that Hellbox. He was sick before they put him in there, and no doctor!"

"As I stated earlier," Adam noted with a hint of frustration. "I intend to tell the governor that there should be a doctor here all the time."

"Don't you hurry none," Griff bit back at Adam as he pushed himself forward to talk to the older man face to face. "Not for Donavan. He ain't hurting now."

"Huh?" prodded Cooper.

"He's dead," Griff clarified. Only Adam could detect the sadness that was hidden in Griff's words.

"Dead?" Cooper echoed. "Donavan's dead… He only had a year to go. He coulda made it." Inspired with renewed rage, Cooper handed Griff the quill. "Sit down, sit down, kid. You're gonna do some writing." Placing the quill in his hand, Griff willed away the minor tremble in his hand and waited for Cooper to start dictating. "To the governor," he began. "Demands from the prisoners in Cell Block Number Two: We want the food that will keep us alive. We want blankets that don't stick to high heaven. We want-"

"W-wait." Griff held up his left hand as he continued to write. "Hang on just a minute."

Adam casually glanced over at the letter. He expected to find a word-for-word copy of Cooper's crude demands, but instead, he read a well-written letter. "To the governor of the state of Nevada," Adam quietly mouthed as he ran his chocolate eyes across the page. "Fed up with our abhorrent conditions, we, the prisoners of Nevada State Prison's Cell Block Two, feel that appealing to you is of the utmost importance. Your prison is fraught with corruption, abuse, and death. Aware of the rights that are denied to us, we demand that you, 1- Provide adequate food that can be acceptably served to people. 2- Supply us with…" Quickly scanning the rest of the letter as Griff wrote, Adam brought himself back to the present and pushed Griff's surprisingly good penmanship out of his mind.

"Donavan was in that hotbox for six days?" Adam asked Cooper, untying his tie to cool himself. Formality was not needed anymore. "Why?"

"'Why?'!" Cooper reverberated. "Because he couldn't swing a sledge. Hizer said he was dogging it. You put a strong man in there for four days," Cooper said as he pointed to the Hellbox. "And he gets so weak we gotta carry him out. Donavan was sick when they put him in there, and was locked in that damned Hellbox for six days!" Banging on the table in front of Adam, Cooper caught Griff's attention. "Keep writing Griff. Tell them! No more Hellbox. And no more whippings!"

A slew of inmates spoke up to agree with Cooper. During the rabble-rousing, Plank re-entered the main area unnoticed by anyone else. In his hand, he held a make-shift shank comparable to the one Adam had earlier inspected. Backing himself into a dusty corner, Plank squatted down, waiting for his chance to strike.

"Whipping?" Adam perked up. "You mean to say that's a punishment from the guards here?"

"Well, I ain't saying it," Cooper relented. "But I can prove it. Bring Hizer here!"

Adam quietly watched as the guard was dragged in by some on the convicts. "Officer Hizer," Cooper taunted. "King of the whole world inside these walls. Well." Cooper walked up the visibly-shaking guard. "How do you like it in here now, Hizer? Huh, huh? How do you like it now, huh?" Unable to find his voice, Hizer refused to answer. "Our hands and feet are chained, our bones breaking for work, and you and the others still have the gall to stretch a whip across our backs!"

"You told me that boy had those injuries prior to his incarceration," Adam said to Hizer as he indicated Griff.

"Who gave the kid those marks, Hizer?" Cooper directly demanded.

Hizer nervously swallowed. "A-ask the warden."

"I don't have to," Cooper rebutted. "I know already. I seen it with my own two eyes. But you're gonna tell Cartwright." Cooper's tendency to protect Griff was evident. "Who hit Griff like that?"

"I'll tell you nothing," Hizer upheld. "You want to k-kill me and hang for it?" Hizer threatened, his shaky voice giving away his true feelings of apprehension. "Go ahead."

"Hizer…" Cooper trailed off, shaking his head. "I won't kill you. But I might just turn you over to the cons who've been getting worked over with that whip of yours." On cue, some of the convicts stepped forward to restrain Hizer.

"Alright, alright!" Hizer conceded. "It was me! But the other guards do it, too. I'm not the only one."

"No, just the cruelest," Griff accused with his head down as he continued to write the letter.

"Maybe that's why Hizer always made sure he played tour-guide at these inspections," mused Cooper. "Throw him back in the Hellbox! We got better things to worry about."

Dismissed by the riot leader, Hizer was gruffly guided back into the Hellbox. A booming clunk alerted anyone within earshot that Hizer was locked back into the Hellbox with the rest of the guards who happened to have the unfortunate luck of working on this inspection day.

* * *

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	3. Not Over Yet

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* * *

Gesturing over the dusty model of the prison cells, the warden pointed to a middle slot. "The convicts control Cell Block Two, here." Joe and Candy studied the small version of the building. "Along with your brother and two of my guards." The warden was about to explain a feasible plan of action, but at a loss of thought, he shortly nodded to the guard also standing next to Joe. "Go ahead, Officer Calhoun."

Officer Calhoun angled the model so he could have a better perspective. "The convicts have been able to take over the main area, the kitchen, and the offshoot room," he explained. Now here in the main area is the only door that can get free. There's a sliding iron lock on this door, and we were able to keep it locked. There's no way they can get out," Calhoun strongly asserted, but his next sentence was stated with an opposite tone. "No way we can get in."

"Take me to this main door, Warden." Joe decreed. "I want to see exactly what we're dealing with."

The warden recoiled at Joe's request. "I.. uhh… I'm sure Officer Calhoun will be happy to escort you," the warden uttered in a shrinking voice.

Calhoun signaled for Joe to exit the warden's office and follow him outside. After walking down a narrow hallway that could not fit two grown across, Calhoun pointed to a large iron door with a square peephole that was barred vertically and horizontally. "That's the door there," he regretfully said. "Three inches thick."

A eye suddenly appeared in the space, looking over Joe and Officer Calhoun. Just as quickly as it appeared, the eye disappeared. Joe was about to call out to get the inmates' attention, but Calhoun held his baton across Joe's chest, silently instructing him to be quiet. "They know we're here." He turned back to the peephole.

"Hey, Cooper!" Roscoe called out from the other room while watching the door that stood between the riot and the rest of the prison. "There's someone out here!"

"Keep it quiet," Cooper ordered all of the inmates. Snatching the demands out from under Adam, who had just signed the letterand was rereading Griff's rhetoric, Cooper walked over to the thick door with a six inch square for communication. Angling himself across the hole, Cooper called out. "Who's out there?"

"Calhoun!" the officer called, sitting on the floor below the space. "What do you want?"

"Officer Calhoun," Cooper said without emotion. "I got some mail for you. Our demands." He callously dropped the piece of paper through the hole so it landed on the other side. "Deliver them to the governor," he ordered.

"That might take a while," Calhoun answered, scanning the demands. "He was in Virginia City and he's on his way here."

Cooper raised an eyebrow. "He better hurry," the convict advised.

"We don't do anything until we find out that the hostages are alive," Joe asserted, slowly rising. Back in the main area, Adam twirled his head around at the sound of his younger brother's voice.

"They're alive," Cooper confirmed.

Unsatisfied with that curt reply, Joe peered through the hole to talk with Cooper. "Don't tell us, show us," he ordered with authority.

In a moment, Adam's forehead, covered in dust and sweat, appeared in the hole. "Joe!" he cried, eyes widening.

"Adam, are you alright?" Joe asked with concerned.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright," Adam quickly answered. "Everybody's alright. Just, be smart. Do what you have to do."

"I will, Adam," the younger Cartwright vowed. "I promise."

Taking a moment to memorize Joe, Adam nodded as a thickness in his throat developed. "I know you will." Before Adam had the chance to say anything, he was forced away from the door. Roscoe returned to his guard post, grunting at Adam to return to the main area. Running a hand through his short, black hair, Adam took his place back in the main area. As he trudged through the doorway, Adam saw Griff was leaning on the frame, staring intently at Adam. The older man paused, at a loss for a prediction of Griff's response. Seconds passed and neither of the men made a move, so Adam continued to walk and sat back down in his wobbly chair.

Turning around and bending down to look at Adam eye to eye, Griff asked, "You thirsty?" The question was void of any purpose or emotion.

Instinctively suspicious of Griff's unforeseen initiative, Adam answered truthfully. "Yeah," he sighed, not directly facing Griff. "Yeah, I am." Expecting a sarcastic remark, Adam bowed his head to pinch the bridge of his nose as the day's events sank into his body. When Adam opened his eyes, he was stunned to find Griff at his side, proffering a ladle of water.

"Yeah, when I get scared," Griff muttered, attempting what Adam thought was polite small talk. "My throat's like cotton."

"Thank you," Adam habitually responded. Keeping his eyes on Griff, Adam accepted the ladle and drank its contents. "Mine, too." A small smile curled around Adam's lips as he handed the ladle back to Griff.

Their conversation was cut short when Cooper made his way into the room and sat next to Adam. "I think you're beginning to see what this place does to us. Not one out of five will live long enough to serve his sentence," he informed Adam.

"Things will be changed," Adam swore. "They'll be changed."

"I believe you mean that," Cooper noted with sincerity. "Me and the lot of them like me?" he scoffed. "We deserve what we got. But just look at Griff there. He's different." Adam twisted his head with interest, indicating for Cooper to describe what he meant. "Just look, Cartwright. What do you think another four years in this place is gonna do to him?"

Surveying Griff's appearance, Adam recognized how weathered and tired Griff looked. Meeting his blue eyes, Adam was disturbed to see how young Griff actually was, especially compared to some of the other men in the prison. Unable to keep Adam's gaze, Griff dropped his gaze and sat on the floor, embarrassed that Cooper would put him on display like that.

To prove his point, Cooper asked Griff for evidence. "Hey, Griff, tell Cartwright why you're here."

"Hammered a man with a pick handle," the nineteen year old explained.

"Didja kill him?" Cooper laughed. He knew the rest of that abridged story.

"Wish I did, but I got stopped," Griff recalled, the memory as clear as Adam's confusion. "He was my step-father, and he liked to beat on people. He beat on me every day and I got tired of it. One day he came at me with pick-axe, and I was sure he was gonna kill me. I grabbed the axe and just starting swinging," he bitterly recalled.

"But that sounds like self-defense," Adam commented. "That's not a crime."

"He was my legal father," Griff shrugged. "That put the law on his side. And he put me in here." Griff pushed himself up and started slowly pacing to remind himself that he was neither chained nor locked in the Hellbox. "Do you want some more water?"

"No." Adam shook his head, still going over Griff's story in his mind. "No, thanks. You say your father asked for you to be put in here?"

"Step-father," Griff automatically corrected.

"If he had power of attorney over you," Adam paused to calculate Griff's age at the time. "That would of made you, at most-"

"Fifteen," the convict supplied. "I was fifteen when I got here."

"Hand me that dipper," Cooper mildly instructed. "I could use some water." Griff silently obliged his good friend. Intending to wet his sore throat, Cooper walked in the direction of the water barrel. Before he could reach it, however, Plank placed himself in front of Cooper.

"Look," Plank accented. "We got hostages. We got the key to the gate. We got it all!" Immune to Cooper's deadly stare, Plank continued. "And you're selling us out for the promise of grub we'll never get!"

Unaffected, Cooper looked disgustedly on the frantic man near him. "Get outta my way."

Without a second of hesitation, Plank shoved his previously-hidden shank into Cooper's stomach. Before Cooper could even hope to defend himself, Plank twisted the shank, destroying any chance for Cooper's survival. With a glint of fiendish happiness in his crazy eyes, Plank pulled the knife, now slick with blood, out of Cooper's body.

Stunned by Plank's attack, Cooper aimlessly stumbled back into the room. "Plank, you… stupid…" Unable to finish his thought, Cooper slumped to the floor. If Griff and Adam had not rushed over to Cooper, he would have hit the ground. Gingerly turning Cooper over, Griff clasped a hand over Cooper's stomach wound, trying in vain to slow the bleeding. Seeing Cooper struggle to say something, Adam angled his head towards himself and Griff. "K-kid…" Cooper said in a strained voice. "Don't forget w-why I… Did th-this."

"I know, Coop," Griff nodded. "You did good."

"See this through," Cooper begged, his eyes drooping and his breath slowing. "For me a-and you." Cooper's head slumped in Adam's hand, signaling that the inmate had died.

Filled with rage and grief for his friend, Griff jumped up to confront Plank. See the blood-covered shank in Plank's hands, Griff froze. "You next?" Plank wildly laughed at Griff. His primal desire to wrap his hands around Plank's throat gave way to Griff's survival instinct. Griff's blue eyes dizzily darted back and forth from Plank's shank to Plank's vengeful smile.

"No, no," Griff unsteadily responded.

Slowly backing away, Griff made his way back into the smaller room with Adam, who had already leaned Cooper's body up against the opposite wall so he looked at peace. Sensing the young man's growing sickness, Adam eased Griff into a chair before the teenager had a chance to protest. The rancher clasped a comforting hand on Griff's uninjured shoulder.

"It was so quick," Griff recalled to himself, not turning to face Adam. He idly twisted his hands in front of him, a nervous habit that Griff had developed since his imprisonment. "Cooper never even seen that knife," scoffed Griff with disbelief. "Planned this riot for months and it all ended in a second."

"It's not over yet," Adam wryly noted.

Griff briskly stood up, shaking off Adam's hand from his shoulder. "Shows how much you know, Cartwright. With Plank leading things…" Griff paused, his previous statement leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "It's over for you. And that means it's over for all of us. I know as well as you do if anything happens to the famous Adam Cartwright, every con in these walls is gonna hang."

* * *

The warden shoved a pair of shiny spectacles on his face. "Work? Food? Soap" He glanced over the rest of the prisoners' letter. Quoting Griff's careful wording, the warden incredulously read, "'Your prison is fraught with corruption, abuse, and death,'?" He tossed his glasses to the other side of his large, oak desk. "Lies!" he accused. "Accusations made by murderers. Not one word of truth."

Fed up with political indecision and indifference, Joe crumpled up the letter so he and the warden could directly see each other. "They can't be all lies," he refuted. "My brother signed these demands."

The warden froze. Unable to treat Joe like he would treat a disgruntled inmate, the warden did not know how to act.

"What they're asking for is reasonable," the guard approved. "Food, blankets, soap, mail…"

"Those men are prisoners," the warden insisted nasally. He pounded his finger to strengthen his point. "Here to be punished, not to be pampered!" Turning to Joe and Candy, the warden maintained, "They get what they need."

Knowing better, Calhoun did not back down from the warden's temper tantrum. "How long since you been out there to look, Warden?"

It had been long enough for the warden to forget the answer to Calhoun's question. "Well, uhh-"

"Answer him!" Joe screamed, his blood boiling as every second passed where Adam was still being held hostage by the dangerous prisoners.

Nervously, the warden began cleaning his glasses on his pristine, white shirt. "Well, as an administrator, m-my place, my place is right here." He thought that the busy-work would have a calming effect, but one look at Joe re-raised the warden's blood pressure.

Ignoring the warden, Calhoun chose to direct his conversation to Joe instead. "There's nothing in that letter they shouldn't have had all along."

"In that case," Candy breathed. "Give 'em what they want."

"Tell them," Joe ordered, his nostrils flaring in anger. "You tell them now. I want my brother out of there."

Outnumbered, the warden relented. "Alright," he agreed. "Alright." A thought popped in his head. "Subject to the governor's approval!"

Joe neither wavered nor stuttered. "To hell with the governor! He's not here. Adam is, and he's stuck in there, ready to be slaughtered, and none of us can even stop it!" Candy recognized how worried Joe was for his eldest brother, not that he was at all surprised. "You tell them now."

The warden could not stop his shaking head. "Y-you tell 'em, Calhoun."

"Are you afraid to do your job!?" Joe scoffed, completely confused by the warden's refusal to step outside of his office. Calhoun slipped out of the office, following the warden's orders. The guard did not want to wait for the warden to get over his fear before ending the riot.

"They want to kill me," the warden told Joe in a hushed voice. "That's what they want to do- all of them." Candy cringed at the warden's impossible claims. All of the men in jail were not arrested for murder. Only an unstable man would presume hold an outlandish opinion. "They got knives in there," the warden reported with agitation. "And they got men who can throw the knives!"

"Forget it," Calhoun interrupted, walking back into the office. The slump in his shoulders unnerved Joe and Candy. "Forget the demands. Plank's running the show now."

"Plank?" Joe questioned. "What about the one who talked to you early, Cooper?"

"Johnny Plank," Calhoun recited. "He's in here for robbery, but he's a killer."

Joe shook his head, his dark curls shaking at the movement. "I know that name. Adam testified at that trial!" he gasped.

Candy rubbed his chin. "Would Cooper let Plank just take over like that?" He knew that this was the worst possible news that Calhoun could have reported.

After knowing both men for years, Calhoun was positive of his truth when he answered, "Not as long as he had a breath left."

"Then Cooper must be dead," Candy confirmed. "Plank's leading them now. If a killer's leading-"

"They got nothing to lose," Joe finished.

Calhoun stepped forward, looking down at the seated warden. "Plank's asking for you, Warden." When met with the warden vehemently shaking his head, Calhoun reported the rest of Plank's demands. "He says you got fifteen minutes. He's gonna meet you at the door with Mr. Cartwright as a shield. If you aren't there, he said he starts killing hostages." Joe's head snapped to side so his burning glare hit the warden.

Candy returned to study the model. "You say this one door is how thick?"

"Three inches," Calhoun repeated. "When it's locked, only a strong explosion could pry that open."

At first, Joe thought an explosion would be the answer to the riot, but logic soon dawned on him. "If the blast doesn't kill the hostages, the convicts will."

Inspired by Joe's thoughts, Calhoun furthered the hypothetical event. "But if they were in the Hellbox here," he pointed to the little model version of the torture chamber. "And that door was padlocked, "The blast couldn't reach 'em. Neither could the cons."

Candy was quick to contribute to the plan. "We need someone on the inside to make sure they get in there."

"Yeah," Calhoun agreed. It was the best plan he could imagine in this scenario. "And we better start soon. Six minutes left."

Joe futilely wished that time would slow itself down. "Now, wait a minute. Plank said he was using Adam as a shield. Why can't the warden use a prisoner as a shield?"

Calhoun instantly caught on to Joe's scheme. "Meaning you? Won't work. They saw and heard you earlier. You or your brother wouldn't last a minute."

"They didn't see me," Candy stated without a second thought.

"Once you're in," Joe considered in an even voice, but his inner feelings were anything but even. "You need to know when the blast is going off, so you can get in the Hellbox safely."

"How 'bout a lot of noise in Cell Block One?" suggested Calhoun. "Because that, I think I know how to manage."

Pushing aside the guilt he felt for making Candy enter the riot, Joe agreed. "Do it."

"Let's go!" Candy anxiously said.

Calhoun sighed, upset that allowing civilians into the prison was the best plan. "That might work, but not in those clothes."

Candy was not to be concerned with trifles like that. "Then get me some other clothes," he ordered.

Not meeting Candy's eyes, Calhoun shook his head. "Prison clothes ain't gonna do it. The men in there don't trust anybody of believe in anything. There is one thing I can do to give you a chance," he hesitated. "But you sure won't enjoy it."

Candy was taken aback, but he would not let himself be talked out of this. "What is it?" he bravely asked.

Bypassing the warden, Calhoun pulled a whip out of his boss's top left desk drawer. When he saw the whip, Candy fully understood what Calhoun was about to do to him. "This is Officer Hizer's favorite persuader," Calhoun explained.

Candy swallowed. Just as Joe was about to call of this plan and think of a new one, Candy began removing his vest and red shirt. "Whatever," he said, still staring at the whip. "Just get it over with. We're running out of time."

"I'm sorry," Calhoun listlessly offered, unwrapping the whip. He raised the leather weapon and flicked it across Candy's unprotected back, just as he would if an inmate misbehaved or talked back to an Officer.

"Oww, mhmmm," Candy grunted. After the first two whips, Candy could not suppress groans of pain. Blood began to trickle down his open wounds and drip onto the warden's otherwise-immaculate floor. Although Candy was receiving only a fraction of a normal whipping for a prisoner, Joe could stand his friend's pain no more.

"That's enough!" he declared. Joe grabbed Calhoun's wrist before the whip struck Candy another time. "That's enough! We're wasting time with this. Get him clothes and let's get a move on."

Dizzy and hurting, Candy steadied himself with the warden's desk. "Thanks, Joe," he mumbled, willing himself not to fall over on the desk.

"Thank you," Joe earnestly told him. "Now come on. Let's get Adam outta here."

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	4. New Rules

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Plank flicked open Adam's pocket-watch as he lazily placed his feet up on the table. Adam wracked his brain to find an idea to end the riot safely. He knew even with Cooper running the show there was only a slim chance. Now, with Plank having usurped the barbed-wire enclosed kingdom, Adam was losing hope for a nonviolent conclusion to the riot.

"Fine, gold watch you got here, Cartwright," Plank jeered. "Yes, siree. I'm willing to bet that rich daddy of yours bought it for you. He ain't here to help you now." Plank adjusted the watch chain. "Nope. Just you and me, sitting here, staring at each other, sweating blood. Warden's only got eight minutes left to come front and center."

Remembering his earlier interaction with the warden, Adam knew that the only way the warden would step foot out of his office would be if every convict where dead. If every convict were dead, Adam deduced, Adam will have met the same fate.

"Found this on the back of the stove." Griff's voice jolted Adam out of his thoughts. "I thought maybe you could use some."

Plank clicked the clock closed. "Kid," he acknowledged. "Cooper's friend. You wouldn't have any ideas about tryin' to get even, would ya?"

Griff allowed himself a small sigh. "Cooper's dead," he stated. Only Adam could pick up on Griff's internal sorrow as he reported that fact. "He ain't the first friend I lost in here. A smart man's gotta take care of himself." Walking behind Adam, Griff placed the coffee on a shelf that looked nearly ready to fall to the floor. "I just want to stay alive, and I want to get out of these walls," he desperately disclosed.

"If you're lucky, you might make it," Plank said through tight lips. "Pour the coffee."

Griff poured as he brought the cup to the table, placing it in front of Plank. "I've got an extra cup. Is it alright if I give him some?" Fear of setting Plank off into a madcap, murderous state was evident in Griff's voice.

Plank briefly smiled, and Adam silently readied himself to protect Griff if the convict made a sudden decision to attack the teenager. "A hustler," Plank classified as he referred to Griff. "Covers every bet. Go on, pour for Cartwright." Griff did as he was ordered, his unemotional reserve back on his face. "Might give him some muscle. He'll be needing it before long."

Bringing the coffee to his lips, Adam elected to ignore Plank. "Thank you," he told Griff in earnest. Obviously anxious and unable to stay in one place for an extended period of time, Plank left without saying a word. Like an animal that had recently been caged, Plank began pacing back and forth near the outermost door.

When he finished his coffee, Adam leaned back in the chair. Resting the back of his neck on the chair, Adam looked up at Griff. "I'm sorry about Cooper. And Donavan."

"Me, too," Griff sighed, taking Plank's chair and pulling it a little close to Adam. "I know he was just a con, and I know that don't mean nothing to people like you, but Coop was a good man."

Adam swallowed, raising his eyebrow at Griff's curt generalization. "People like me, as you put it, do care about good men."

"Sure," Griff sneered cynically. "Spend a couple months in here and then tell me others out there think a man's character means something."

"Cooper did," Adam noted. "Or else he wouldn't have planned this riot."

Speechless, Griff stared at his hands, occasionally stealing a glance or two of Adam. Silently furrowing his brow, Griff tried to find a loophole Adam's logic. Completely unprepared for Adam's usually flawless argumentative techniques, Griff was stumped.

"How long have you been here?" Adam chose not to gloat that he had outwitted Griff. He wanted to seem approachable to the only person who seemed to abide by Cooper's original riot plan.

"A little over four years," Griff confessed. "But it feels like a lifetime," he added with a distant look in his eyes. "I was plum scared the day I come in here. I mean, I was just a kid, y'know? I didn't belong with the men here, but Cooper and some other fellas here took a liking to me. I was lucky. Taught me to avoid cons like Plank, and just keep me head down and do what I'm told. That's how you survive this place."

Adam eyed Griff's shoulder, still angry and red with swelling. "That's how you got those marks there? Keeping your head down and doing what you're told?"

Faintly smiling, Griff swung his chair around so the back of the chair faced Adam. Straddling the seat so he was more comfortable, Griff continued. "Yeah, well, you gotta do something to keep busy around here." Adam saw right through Griff's attempt to deflect his question, so he bit his lip and honestly answered, "You saw that Hellbox, didn't ya?" Once Adam knowledgeable nodded, Griff explained, "I take care of the men when they come out of there. Guards didn't always want me to, 'specially when I'd…" Griff searched for a non-incriminating phrase. "Imply things about them."

"Ah." Adam's single syllable spoke volumes of understanding. "Seems like Cooper wasn't the only good man around here."

"Time's up, Catwright!" Plank came storming in with a cleaver from the kitchen. He roughly grabbed Adam by the collar, forcing him up out of his seat. "It's one minute past. Looks like the warden's shaking so hard he can't save your hide." He jutted the shank inn Adam's face.

"Plank?!" the warden shrieked from outside the door. Almost disappointed that he had to postpone killing Adam, Plank turned his head to the door's direction.

Plank placed the large knife on Adam's throat. "Alright, you try anything and you're dead!" He tentatively opened the door and jumped back behind Adam, in fear of what might be on the other side. Adam hid his surprise when he saw Candy dressed in worn out, dirty prison garb and standing in front of the warden. The two ranchers made eye contact for a millisecond, but that brief window of time was enough to bring Adam up to speed on the situation.

"New rules," Plank affirmed. "I'm giving ya all but six cons: me and the five I'm takin' with me. We need nine horses, three for the hostages, ya hear?" To emphasize his point, Plank placed the knife closer into Adam's neck. Adam refused to show any sign of fear or weakness.

"I hear," the warden meekly answered when he clearly was not supposed to speak.

"Bring the horses in the back gate between the cellblocks. Six handguns, six rifles. And them guns better be loaded!"

"Guns loaded," the warden repeated dumbly.

"Blankets, grub, ammo. No guards in the towers, you got that?!" Candy ran his eyes up and down to inspect Plank. He easily deduced how insane the convict truly was.

Wide-eyed and unsure of what to do, the warden still reiterated Plank's requests. "No guards."

"Ya got two hours!" Plank proclaimed.

"Two hours?!" the warden cried, his voice cracking. "I can't get th-"

Plank insisted, "Two hours! Now get moving!"

Taking advantage of the lull, Candy pushed his way into the man area that the cons controlled. Looking over his shoulder to find Plank pushing Adam back into the chair, Candy allowed himself to trip and fell on the group. A loud crack indicated that Plank locked the door behind himself.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Plank turned the knife on Candy, who propped himself up off of the concrete floor with one elbow.

"Please, please. Don-don't stick with that thing, please." Although it took some effort, Adam did not react to Candy's overacting. Candy's performance as a desperate inmate would have been downright humorous to Adam if the situation had not been so grave. "They, they pulled me outta Cell Block One to be a, a target in front of the warden. Y'know, 'case you threw a knife or something, see?" Candy panted.

"Keep talking," Plank advised, still tightly gripping the knife.

"I want to get out of here!" Candy plaintively explained. "You guys are going out. Take me with you!" Hesitating, hoping to convince Plank of his ruse, Candy added. "You're Johnny Plank, ain't you? Most everybody's heard about that bank job you pulled. I'd be proud to ride with Johnny Plank."

Plank spit near Candy to express his disgust. "You're probably a plant. You don't look like a con to me." Plank inhaled deeply. "Or smell like one!"

Candy shook his head, praying that Plank would not see through this ruse. "Then just take a look at this!" Stripping off the brown shirt that was clearly too big for Candy, he turned his back to show Plank the fresh whip marks marring Candy's flesh. Adam's pupils dilated in rage at the sight of his friend's injury, but knew that any reaction would mean certain death for Candy.

"Still could be a plant!" Plank persisted.

"No… I swear, I…" Candy trailed off, unsure of what else to do.

"Is your name Candy?" Griff stepped forward as he asked in disbelief. He leaned against the table, crouching beside Candy. "Candy?" If Griff had not been hanging on to the table for support, he surely would have fallen to the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right," Candy affirmed. He could not place this young man and silently hoped that whoever this inmate was, he would not say anything to blow his cover.

"You know him, Kid?" Plank prodded, somewhat allowing the knife to droop.

"Yeah," Griff answered uncomfortable, distressed that Candy did not recognize him. "Up in Billings, Montana," he reminded, not taking his eyes off of Candy while searching for a sign that the older man recognized Griff. When Griff mentioned Billings, Candy cocked his head to the side, unable to believe that the young boy he had met and worked with there would ever end up in a state prison. "And… uh… Cell Block One," Griff mumbled, hoping that his vouching for Candy would be enough to convince Plank. "He was here when I first come in." Both Adam and Candy's hearts relaxed and returned to a normal rhythm when the two men realized that Griff would keep Candy's secret.

Outnumbered, Plank retreated his weapon so Candy could stand up and brush himself off. His back twinged at the movement, causing Candy to grimace. Adam pulled out the extra chair so his injured friend could sit down and rest.

"Marked him up good," Griff mused, gently tugging at Candy's shirt so the thin material would not infect the wounds any more than they already did. To make the task easier for Griff, Candy arose and leaned against the table. "Definitely Hizer Stripes." When Griff spoke, the eldest Cartwright was mentally sickened at the thought of Candy volunteering to be whipped for Adam's sake. "There's dirt in these cuts. He'll get blood poisonin' if they ain't washed out." Grabbing the water dipper from behind him, Griff wet a rag, intending to clean out Candy's back.

Plank pushed Griff's hand aside. "Something wrong with your head, Kid?" he derided. "You want to take care of everybody?" Without warning, Plank slapped Candy on the back to prove his callousness. Unprepared for the instantaneous burning sensation, Candy grunted and gripped the edges table to steady himself.

"He helped me once," Griff weakly defended, blaming himself for Candy's pain.

"Fine. But any one of y'all tries anything…" Plank threateningly showed his knife again while walking out of the room backwards in a misguided attempt at menacing.

"Come here," Griff said, rewetting the rag. "I'm gonna clean these cuts. It's gonna hurt," he warned Candy. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Candy mumbled, still unable to fully conceive how the Griff King he knew was locked up in prison. "Ohh, ugh," he grunted as Griff wiped as the cuts. "Last time I saw you, you was just outside of Billings."

"Trying to wrestle a cow out of a snowdrift," finished Griff.

Despite his pain, Candy genuinely smiled at the memory. "That was a long time ago," he stated, but sadly, Griff was already aware of this.

Adam perked up when he heard that. "You worked on a farm?"

"Worked it?" Griff responded sarcastically. "I ran my step-father's farm alone by the time I was 14. Before that, I worked as a hand on a neighboring ranch for extra money. Someone had to work," he bitterly recalled. "And no one was gonna pay my step-father for emptying bottles of whiskey."

"What are you doing in here?" Candy wanted to know what crime Griff had committed to be sentenced to time in prison.

Griff misunderstood the question because of Candy's wording, and replied, "Eight to ten." Disturbed that Griff's time in prison was possibly less than half over, Adam bit his lip. "What are you doing here, Candy?" Griff directly interrogated.

"I'm gonna try and help these hostages escape." Candy saw no reason why he should not answer truthfully. "And I need your help." The pressure on Candy's back increased and it took all of his concentration not to cry out in pain.

"I saved your neck," Griff angrily reminded him. "That's all you got to say to me? Are you craz-"

"Look, soon, I'm going to make my play," Candy revealed. "They're gonna know I'm a plant and they're gonna know you're a liar and a traitor!" His accusations made Griff's blood run cold. Griff had been in prison long enough to know how traitors were treated by the rest of the inmate population.

"Then I'm as good as dead," Griff sighed.

Candy did not argue. Although he worried for Griff, Candy knew that he would have to do anything he could to rescue the hostages. "Okay, if you can't help me, just keep your mouth shut, alright?"

That solution sounded so hollow to Adam's ears. Upset that Griff's loyal actions would ensure his death, Adam pressed his lip into a thin line. "We don't expect a promise," Adam diplomatically interjected. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Griff said nothing, tossing the cloth aside. Candy's back was not in good shape, but to Griff, ugly wounds were a common sight. "That's the best I can do," he truthfully explained to Candy. "But you really need to see a doctor."

"Not that one's available." Adam severely shook his head. "It's barbaric."

"It's how it's always been," Griff chillingly recollected.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," vowed Adam.

Scooting his chair closer to Adam, Candy whispered, "There's gonna be an uproar in a nearby cell. Then a shot, so be ready. When that shot goes off, the safest place to be is inside the Hellbox. It's the only place strong enough to withstand the bomb."

Adam nodded, going over the plan in his head. "So you're blasting them out?"

"Right," Candy confirmed.

The two men began to figure out the logistics, and Griff silently left before either Candy or Adam to notice. A stranger and an old friend had just trusted Griff with knowledge that would save his life. If Griff had wanted to completely squash any hope that Adam and the guards would live to see the end of the riot, he could easily tell Plank of Candy and Adam's plan. In fact, Griff would probably get one of the six horses Plank demanded for payment if he chose to snitch on Adam and Candy. Chasing that thought from his mind, Griff passed Plank without acknowledging the new leader of the riot. Griff concluded that being trusted was a lot better than being a snitch.

"Guess you were right, Coop," he whispered. "Maybe this whole thing can work."

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	5. A Grand Entrance

**Thank you to all who have read/reviewed! It brings me such joy to know people are reading this story. Enjoy Chapter 5!**

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Joe whittled at the end of the dynamite sticks' fuse to fray it so the rope would burn faster. Happy with the way the dynamite looked, Joe tightened the metal tube around the dynamite by biting hard to make it stay in place. "How fast does this diffuse?" he asked Calhoun.

"A foot in thirty seconds," Calhoun responded.

"Alright." Joe cut off the remaining rope, leaving six inches. "I told Candy he'd have thirty seconds to get Adam into the Hellbox. "So I'll have fifteen second to light this after Cell Block One uprises."

"How long before that happens?" Joe asked, placing the metal tube back in his mouth.

"Twenty minutes," Calhoun answered. "Maybe ten."

Heart thumping, Joe meticulously pressed the dynamite sticks together. No detail would go unnoticed if it was the difference between life and death for his brother and Candy. "Make it ten."

"Got it," Calhoun yelled back to Joe as he made his way to Cell Block One's kitchen. Searching through the back of every cabinet and drawer, Calhoun finally found the item he desired. Grabbing a dull knife, Calhoun cut the prime streak as best he could and placed it on the meal cart. Pushing the cart in front of him, Calhoun made his way into Cell Block One's main area.

Except for the inmates that inhabited it, Cell Block One was identical to Cell Block Two. Without saying a word, Calhoun dropped a slab of rare meat on the first three plates that were shoved into his face.

"Hey, meat!" the prisoners marveled as soon as they recognized the food. The lucky men who were given the meat devoured the food, looking more untamed than the wildest beast. Although he felt cruel manipulating the men into an uproar this way, Calhoun ignored half of the plates, evoking the controlled chaos he wanted.

"What about us?!"

"Yeah, give me some!"

"Come back here!"

Once the prisoners had reached a volume loud enough for Cell Block Two to hear, Calhoun began doling out the remaining meat as fast as he could. Men began to fight over the meat, desperate for a bite of real food. Once Calhoun had ran out of meat, he walked back up the aisle, locking the door behind him and fired a single shot. Cell Block One's population was much too busy to notice or even care.

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A distant ruckus that was not silenced by the thick wall of the prison reached the ears of the rioting prisoners and hostages in Cell Block Two. At first, Plank was unaffected by the neighboring cell's noise, but he quickly changed his mind when he heard a gunshot. As Plank ran to investigate, Candy knew that time would move quickly. When Candy jumped to his feet, Adam instinctually handed Candy his shirt.

"Let go of my shirt!" Candy yelled, snatching the fabric. Just as Candy had hoped, it did not take long for Adam to catch on to the stunt.

Adam backed up to the door, prompting Candy to follow him. "Just trying to help!" he enunciated so the convicts in the other room could hear the argument.

"I don't need your help," Candy persisted. "It's help from the likes of you that put me here in the first place!" Shoving Adam back through the doorframe into the main area, the two fell over and began to fight. Pulling their punches as much as they could without sacrificing realism, Adam and Candy rolled their way to just outside of the Hellbox.

Griff inwardly identified the fight as a ploy. None of the prisoners made a move to force Adam and Candy into the Hellbox like they had planned. Instead, the inmates were cheering the fight on as if they were audience members at a gladiator fight. Running over to the two ranchers, Griff kicked at Adam and Candy. His foot connected with Adam's knee, and Griff hoped that he would not leave a bruise. "You're messing everything up, Cartwright!" he declared, going along with the trick. Heaving the Hellbox open, Griff shoved both Adam and Candy, who were too stunned by Griff's help to untangle themselves from each other, in with the other two guards.

"Griff, stay in here!" both Candy and Adam simultaneously ordered.

Griff stopped in his tracks, momentarily thinking that he should obey Adam and Candy. A squeak from the open door rang in Griff's ears. As the Hellbox was very close to the entrance that would soon be blown up, Griff could tell that only a locked Hellobox door would protect the hostages inside. Not answering his new acquaintances, Griff sprinted out of the Hellbox and locked the door behind him with a click, ensuring Adam and Candy's survival. Left in total darkness and confused by Griff's abrupt action, Adam and Candy waited for the explosion they knew would happen soon.

"What's this all about?" Plank screamed with unbridled aggression outside the Hellbox.

"There was a fight. I broke it up," Griff explained over the roar of other inmates' testimonials. "You said you didn't want no trouble."

Plank pushed Griff against the Hellbox door. The same crazy glint that Plank had when he killed Cooper returned in his eyes. "I don't want any trouble," he sneered, sliding the cleaver out of the sheath he tied around his belt. "And you've been nothing but trouble since this whole riot started, Kid. So-"

A deafening blast silenced Plank, causing him to run for whatever little cover he could find. Stunned from the blast, but far enough away to only to escape fatal injure, the other inmates hit the ground, placing their hands on top of their heads. Smoke blinded every man in the room as Joe kicked in the now-flimsy metal gate. He rolled in a Gatling gun to the main area, firing into the air so no man would try to attack Joe or escape. Officer Calhoun also covered Joe with a rifle, ready to shoot at the first sign of resistance.

Faced with the failure of his only chance at freedom, Plank ran at the Hellbox with wild eyes and his knife drawn. "Come any closer and I'll kill them! Starting with Cartwright!" Plank howled, clearly out of his mind. "Cartwright's mine! I'm gonna kill Cartwright!"

Calhoun did not think twice before aiming and firing at Plank. The bullets struck Plank in the head. He was dead before he hit the ground. Joe did not feel even a shred of remorse for the man who had threatened his brother.

Smoke cleared when Joe stopped firing, but he kept his hands on the gun to start shooting again if it proved necessary. The convicts all slowly arose, keeping their hands in plain sight. Gradually, almost all of the men were on their feet, ready to be re-chained and processed. One man was too busy concentrating on breathing to get up. Still on the floor to the side of the Hellbox, Griff twisted slightly, trying and failing to sit up against the wall behind him. Unable to subdue his pounding head, Griff collapsed back to the floor and fell into unconsciousness.

An army of guards flocked into the area, chaining and dispatching of every convict. Pushing past Griff, Joe ripped the Hellbox door open to free the hostages. The two prison guards sheepishly saw themselves out of the Hellbox before Joe could question them. "Adam, Candy!" he greeted, utterly relieved that although Adam and Candy looked worn and weary, they were relatively alright. "Are you fellas okay?"

Adam squinted at what he perceived to be the main area's bright light. "Yeah, we're fine," he smiled with gratefulness. "About time you got here, Little Brother."

"Sounded like you put on quite a show," Candy remarked as he put up a hand to shield his eyes from the light. Even the haphazardly lit prison was a great contrast to the enveloping darkness of the Hellbox. Guided by Joe, Candy and Adam cautiously stepped out of the Hellbox and into the main area.

"I always like to make a grand entrance," Joe agreed, helping Candy to move with a stiff back. "Good thing you two managed to get this lock in place." He patted the Hellbox's thick wall. "Or else this door would've been blown off and the blast would have gotten at all of you in there."

"The lock," Adam disjointedly commented. "That's why he wouldn't stay in. You can only access the lock from the outside. He must've locked the door!" Joe was confused and turned to Candy for clarification.

"Griff!" Candy cried. He caught sight of a leg only a couple feet away from him. Pointing to Griff's motionless leg, Candy made his way over to the teenager. Adam, too, raced over to the boy and immediately noticed blood oozing from a deep cut across his forehead.

"Griff? Griff?" Adam crooned, hoping to bring the teenager back to consciousness. Candy ignored his burning wounds and eased himself down to be beside Griff. "Come on, Griff," he said, hoping the boy would rouse. Griff made no motion or noise to indicate he was aware of his surroundings, much to Adam and Candy's dismay.

"His shoulder!" Joe noted, snapping both Adam and Candy out of their thoughts. Griff's right shoulder was jutting out at an odd angle, clearly dislocated.

Adam gingerly wrapped Griff's good arm around his neck and hoisted the boy up so Adam could bear his weight. "Hizer!" he summoned with fury. Once all of the prisoners had been accounted for and dealt with, the balding guard approached Adam. "Get a doctor," Adam ordered. "This man's hurt."

Upon hearing Adam's intense tone, Joe stepped forward to take Griff so Adam would not have to exert himself anymore. At first, Joe carrying Griff looked comical because there was such a difference between the two men's heights. Because he was so strong, however, Joe easily supported Griff so the transition was not in the lease bit awkward.

Hizer hesitated. He was not used to coping with the famous Cartwright authority. "The doctor will be here tomor-"

"Now," Adam growled. "He's the reason we're still alive."

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	6. Chance to Trust Again

**Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted this story! I'm sad to say, this is the last chapter! Enjoy!**

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"It's a pity it take something like this to get the public's attention," Governor Jim Sadler sighed. He watched Adam, who had cleaned himself up from the day's event, fold his arms through his yellow jacket. "I'm sorry that you got caught up in all this, Adam. I never would have guessed a riot would break out in the middle of an inspection."

"If a riot had to happened, it should be on an inspection day," Adam articulated. "Someone had to see what was going on in that hole."

Sadler nodded, embarrassed that such poor treatment of inmates had been going on in his prison without his knowledge. "Adam, I really can't thank you enough."

"Yes, you can, Jim," Adam disputed good-humoredly. "Those original demands, they weren't out of line. Work," he listed. "They need it, Jim. Real and meaningful work." Adam suggested, "In the fields, maybe. They need real food, too. Not that garbage I saw today. And another thing, you could really use some humane guards here. You could hire them if you paid a decent wage. If those legislators could spend two days in one of those cells-"

"I know, Adam," the governor agreed. "My problem is to convince the public to care about men they'd rather forget."

Adam blinked at the poignant statement, recognizing how hard it would be to properly change the conditions of the Nevada State Prison. "Let's continue this in the other room."

Officer Calhoun immediately stood up to meet the two men. "Governor, Mr. Cartwright," he greeted. "The warden said everything is back to normal at the prison," the officer reported, keeping an eye on Griff's still form in the doctor's office bed.

After Griff's shoulder was put back into place, a figure-eight style bandage was wrapped around his shoulders to prevent any further damage. The teenager's head wound was covered in a thick, white bandage as well once Griff had been settled into bed. Adam was initially concerned about Griff whip wounds, but before racing off to deliver a baby outside of town, the doctor assured Adam that the salve he applied would protect Griff from infection. The doctor, having been trained to recognize signs of malnourishment and exhaustion explained that it was no surprise to the doctor that Griff had not moved since the explosion.

Adam inwardly smiled when Sadler responded, "I don't want it back to normal if normal means those men in there have to be treated like animals. Mr. Cartwright has been filling me in on the system here."

Letting go of his baton, Calhoun relaxed. "Maybe we can make some of those much-needed changes now," he softly recommended, hoping that he would be able to be proud to work as a guard for the state prison.

"Yes, and the first one's going to be to get a new warden," asserted Sadler. "You up for the job?"

Calhoun cracked a slight smile. "Yes, sir!"

Adam stared at Griff, grossly fixated on the dirty chains that enveloped the boy's ankles and wrists. The metal contraptions clashed with the paleness of the clean, white sheets. "Are these really necessary?" Adam asked as he hooked his fingers through the chain links.

"It's state law," Calhoun shrugged. "He's a convict, and he needs to be kept secure. I know the boy's no threat, but-"

"Consider yourself off-duty, Warden" Sadler instructed. "That's a direct order."

"Yes, sir!" Without thinking twice, Calhoun quickly exited the doctor's office and headed down the street to the saloon. After all, it had been one hectic day.

"Jim, what about Griff King here?" Adam prodded, resisting the urge to run his hand through Griff's hair, just as he would to comfort either of his brothers if they were bedridden.

Not following, Sadler offered a politician's typical answer. "I don't know, Adam. What about him?"

"If he's put back into that cell, he's as good as dead. Hiding Candy's real identity like that," he recounted. "Those men will see him as a traitor."

"Well, I could parole him," Sadler mentioned after a moment. "But then I'd have to find someone who'd assume responsibility for the boy."

Adam grabbed his hat from the rack and placed it atop his head. "That shouldn't be too hard. I think I know a certain ranch owner outside of Virginia City who just might be convinced to do that."

From the nearby room, Candy and Joe swiftly entered, unnerved by Griff's immobility. "Any change?"

"He's still out of it, but the doctor said Griff will make a full recovery," Adam confirmed, eliciting a smile from Joe and Candy.

"That's great news!" Joe said.

Speaking of health prognosis reminded Adam of Candy's voluntary injury. "Candy, what'd the doctor say about your back?"

"Oh, it's gonna be alright." Candy rubbed his shoulder for dramatic effect. "He said with a couple of weeks off, it'll be good as new."

"Couple of weeks off?" Adam repeated indignantly, obviously kidding his good friend. "Maybe I would've believed you if you had some acting talent. Your performance today was mediocre at best!"

"We're just about to get the horses ready. You set to ride out?" Joe added, hoping that he could distract Adam enough to help Candy trick his brother into giving his friend a long vacation.

"Not yet," Adam replied, eyeing Griff. "And find an extra horse when we are ready to ride out."

Candy grinned, understanding Adam. "You got it," he winked.

"An extra horse?" Joe reiterated curiously. "For who?"

"Come on, Joe," Candy mentioned. "I'll explain on the way to the stable," he offered, leading his friend out the door.

Once he figured he would be staying for a while, Adam dutifully took his hat back off of his head. Easing himself into the chair near Griff's bed, Adam let his head droop back and stared at the ceiling as the past memory of the adrenaline-infused riot washed over him.

"Mhmm…" Griff softly moaned, squeezing his eyelids together. "My…m'head." Griff began to raise his right hand to his head, but Adam quickly reacted and held Griff's arm down so there would be no further injury.

"Griff?" Adam breathed, keeping his voice low. "Griff, can you hear me?"

Not wanting to expend the effort to talk, Griff decided to reply with a short nod. He instantly regretted that judgment. "Oww… Yes."

"Good, good. You're at the doctor's," Adam explained. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Inspection… Riot." Griff haltingly sifted through his memories. "Cooper." Griff blinked back tears when he thought of his friend's murder. Too uneasy with Adam sitting next to him, Griff refused to show emotion, but Adam was well-versed in detecting hidden emotions. "Candy's fight. That damn blast."

"Good, good," Adam endorsed, glad to see that Griff had not suffered any memory loss. "Then you remember helping Candy and me survive during the riot. I never got a chance to properly thank you for that."

Unfamiliar with Adam's display of gratitude, Griff uncomfortably shifted in the bed. "Well, I… Uhh… You're welcome," he awkwardly accepted.

"I know what your helping us meant," Adam continued. "You could've been killed for doing that."

"The day's not over yet," Griff gruffly mentioned, his thoughts straying to what would happen as soon as he was well enough to return to prison.

"Or gone along with Plank and possibly escaped," theorized Adam.

"No!" Griff quickly denied. "I'm not like Plank."

A half-smile appeared on Adam's lips. "I see that. And I'm thankful." He paused, thinking of an appropriate transition to inform Griff about his parole. "And I never got a chance to properly introduce myself. My name is Adam," he politely winked. "Adam Cartwright."

"Griff King," Griff automatically reciprocated. "Please keep what Cooper said in mind when you meet with your committee. Plank's not the average con in there. Things do need to be changed." Griff did not waste time with a transition.

"I will," Adam promised. "And you've made it quite easy for me." Adam pulled the list of original demands front his back pants pocket. "You're a very eloquent writer."

Griff waved his left hand in the air, but his right hand was painfully dragged along because of the chain connection between his wrists. Ashamed at his lack of freedom, Griff cleared his throat. "Ain't nothing. Just thought that what was in my head sounded a little better than what Cooper said. It was basically the same thing." Griff cautiously moved both of his hands in unison to reach the cup of water on the nightstand next to the doctor's bed. Adam recognized the teenager's movements. Between his shoulder and the chains, Adam knew Griff could not manage grabbing the water by himself, so the rancher amiably stopped Griff and held the cup up to the injured boy's lips. After drinking greedily, Griff continued speaking. "I finished school early, when I was 14. Never got any chance to write much after getting arrested."

"Yes, well." Adam folded the note back up and returned it to his pocket. "I hope that you get more of a chance when you're working on my family's ranch."

Griff snapped his head so he was directly facing Adam. Without waiting for his swimming vision to clam, he asked, "Working on your ranch? What are you talking about?"

"As soon as you're feeling better, the governor offered to parole you into my custody," Adam smiled. He had expected a bigger reaction from Griff, but he attributed Griff's quietness to his injuries and pure shock.

"I… Paroled? You mean-"

"You get some rest." Adam patted Griff leg as he stood up from his chair. "We'll meet with the governor later to discuss the full details. I'll be back soon to see if you need anything. The minute you're paroled, I promise, these…" Adam indicated the chains. "Are coming off." Satisfied, Adam thought it was best to exit to the next room so Griff was left alone with his thoughts.

"Paroled?" Griff whispered to himself. "Working on a ranch?" Griff chewed on his lip. He could have jumped for joy at the notion of never going back to the prison again. Griff did, however, resent not having a say in his own life. Glancing at the shackles, Griff wondered if he was simply trading one prison for another. He struggled to believe that he could trust Adam, and that he would enjoy working on the famous Ponderosa with Adam, his family and Candy. With a pang of sadness, Griff knew that there was a time, before he had been sent to prison, when he would have trusted Adam and been happy to be given such an offer.

"Well," Griff sighed, breathing deeply to relax for the first time in four years. "Maybe I can't trust them now. But with luck, this will be my chance to trust again." Sinking down into the soft pillow that he was not at all used to, Griff fell asleep, eagerly awaiting morning's arrival so he could start his new life with the Cartwrights and Candy.

_End_

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**Hope you enjoyed ****Riot! (What-Happened-Instead)**. **Let me know what you thought in a review! Again, an undying thank you to all readers and reviews. Hope to see you around for the next story! **


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